The man who gambled with the gods
by Ruler of the Fake Empire
Summary: Somethings are not meant to happen. Things like mansions in the middle of nowhere and riches beyond the imagination in the hands of fools are just not meant to be. But that isn't the point, this story is about the man. The man who saved him and asked for nothing in return. This is what happened when Roderich met the man who gambled with the gods.


The sky was blue.

It had been blue for as long as he could remember, but it didn't comfort him. It simply reminded him that he was royally screwed. So royally screwed in fact that he was going to die. He was going to die in the middle of bloody nowhere, with only a strange looking bird that kept laughing at him to keep him company. Rocks poked into his back. He didn't feel them, nor did he feel the ant that ran over his hand. He didn't feel the cracked, dry earth under his fingertips or the sun beating down on him. His headache had somehow mysteriously disappeared somewhere and all he was left with was this feeling of never ending numbness and the blue sky.

His lips were dried and chapped and his mouth was devoid of saliva. His clothes were drenched with the sweat the no longer dripped from his skin. His body had become dry and abandoned. Even his blood felt slow and gluggy. There was nothing left. At least he had folded his jacket into a pillow before discovering he was unable to get up. At least there was that.

He couldn't really remember how he had gotten to the middle of nowhere staring at the sky. Vague memories about "finding himself" and "bush walks" and Elizaveta pushing him on a plane to Australia flitted unhelpfully through his mind. None of it was very vivid. It was a salad of snapshots that he didn't really recognise. Perhaps he had been able to remember everything at some point, but that point had long come to pass. All he could manage to focus on was the fact that the sky was blue. Everything else was just a big blur of forgotteness. It was all just a little confusing.

He had no idea how his eyes had remained open all this time, considering that all his other muscles were essentially dead. How exhausting it was. Still he watched the sky turn from bright blue to dark blue to black. He watched as the sun fell and the moon rose. It was very peaceful. All that he needed was some music. He had always wanted to die to the sound of Beethoven, but, apparently, that wasn't on offer. Of course he was going to die. He was lying somewhere in the Australian bush slowly dying of thirst and exhaustion. His death was inevitable and looming. His mind was clouded and hopeless as he stared at the moon which he only just registered as white. The bird had long disappeared and all he was left with was the sky and a feeling of dazed clarity.

He didn't have any idea how he had managed not to notice the man, especially considering his size. Even though he hadn't even noticed the man's presence until a broad shouldered form had bent over him he was still too tired to be surprised. The face was dim, but jade eyes twinkled in the darkness. Intelligence and intoxication lingered within this man. His breath smelt like vodka and alcohol, but his eyes still retained something like wisdom. The man was huge. He couldn't see the majority of him, but with someone with shoulders like his, you aren't going to be short.

"Woah… mate. You alright?" He stared into the man's eyes, suddenly wondering if he really wanted to be saved. If he really wanted to see the light of day again.

"W-water" he wanted to live. He didn't know why, he had nothing to live for, but perhaps he just wanted to die different. Maybe he would just have to wait until he was given the opportunity to die with Beethoven. His voice was a croaking whisper, but somehow the man still heard him and plea for liquid.

"Oh, dude, right, you gotta be thirsty right?" He felt the man press a chilled bottle to his partly open lips and a slightly warm, bitter liquid trickle into his mouth. Beer. The man pinched his nose, forcing him to swallow. He spluttered, but somehow made his throat muscles move. He lapped up the alcoholic beverage greedily. Beer had never tasted so good. Like it was from god's own bar. Maybe it was the fact that it was Australian. Austrian beer had never been very good. Australian beer on the other hand tasted like gold. "There you go" the man cooed drunkenly. The bottle was taken away from his chapped lips and he groaned in deprivation. The man lifted the bottle to his own lips, he swallowed the last mouthful of beer. "Fuck, we're out of beer!" For some reason he liked the fact that the man referred to them as we. He tried to nod in agreement, but nothing was working. The man shoved the beer bottle into the pocket of his jacket and yawned. "Man, I'm tired. Come on random guy, let's go home" he had no idea where home was, apparently it was where the man was going. He was roughly thrown over the man's shoulder and he wondered to himself if he was being kidnapped. Well, he was being taken somewhere without his consent, but he was also unable to ask for help. So in all technicalities he was both being saved and being kidnapped. If he had the energy to sigh he would of sighed. It wasn't like he was able to put up a fight anyway. As the man walked he felt himself dipping slowly into sleep or perhaps comatose, a sweet melody running through his head and the smell of wood chips and hard work at his nose.

His mind screeched in pain as soon as he became even a little conscious. The pain was alive and frightening. His lips and throat were dry and scratchy and he reached his hand up to his neck on instinct only to feel just his skin under his fingertips. He stared at the celling, suddenly missing the blue sky. He couldn't remember when he had opened his eyes, but it couldn't of been very long ago. He couldn't even see the celling very clearly, his glasses were hanging from his ear and his short sighted eyes were blurring everything.

He seemed to be on some sort of couch. He was surrounded by a mound pillows. He was so covered in pillows, in fact, that wasn't able see his feet. If he hadn't been in so much pain he would of been absurdly comfortable.

His eyes scanned the room as much as he could without actually turning his head. He barely made out some sort of living room. There was a coffee table next to the sofa he was lying on and a television on the wall. Everything else was unrecognisable without he glasses. Though he did spy a bottle of water on the coffee table. He reached towards it frantically. He could barely even feel his fingers, but somehow his fingers managed to grip the bottle that might of been set out for him. He didn't really care. He swung himself into a sitting position and somehow managed to drink the whole bottle in under ten seconds. Water cascaded down his shirt, but he still didn't care. He was thirsty. His head was pounding with the movement and his glasses had fallen to the floor, that chilled the balls of his feet. Where on earth were his shoes? He could just see his jacket thrown over on of the armchairs and swore to god there was a small bear nibbling on the sleeve. That must of just been a short sighted delusion. He lowered his head, leaning his elbows down on his knees to wait for his headache to go away.

Everything hurt. His legs, his arms, his head, his eyes, his throat, his chest, his whole body was aching. He was never, ever going to do anything adventurous ever again. He just wasn't built for the outside world. He reached down slowly and picked up his glasses from the floor. With a deep and plentiful sigh he replaced them on the bridge if him nose, right where he liked them. He didn't raise his head. He didn't want to inflict anymore pain on himself, really, it was like the worst hangover he had ever had.

"Oh, Jesus Christ, mate. I gotta stop drinking Ivan's vodka" he looked up in search of the voice. It seemed that once again he hadn't heard the man arrival. It was definitely the man from last night. He couldn't remember much, but those sparkling jade eyes certainly hadn't dimmed with time. They twinkled with curiosity and alarm. They stared at each other. He was able to see the man a lot better now, not just a pair of green eyes and broad shoulders. The man had long dark brown hair that he had put up into a pony tail, strands were slowly coming loose and falling into his face. He had been right about the broad shoulders though. The man was still huge. He was covered in muscles and strength, but somehow he still managed to look somewhat soft. He was very tall and was by far the handsomest man he had ever seen. His face was sloping and his skin was tanned, from spending too much time in the sun. He wore a pair of trousers and a suspiciously absent shirt. He tucked a few strands of hair behind his ear only for them to fall instantly back in front of his eyes. He blinked at the man sitting on his couch. "Who the hell are you?"

"I'm Roderich Edelstein" it was the only thing he could think to say. The man scratched the back of his head.

"Oh…" the man frowned as if something was coming back to him. His face suddenly stretched into a huge grin. "Oh, I remember now! You're that guy who I found on my way home!" He laughed and Roderich offered him a deep frown. He wasn't particularly good with people and no matter how handsome this strange Australian was he was in the category of 'people'. It was very disappointing that he wasn't an alien or something, that could of been better. "I'm Jett by the way. So why don't you tell me why you came about _this_ close to dying!"

His enthusiasm was annoying.

Author's notes:

well, that was fun. I loved writing this, it was just so much damn fun. Anyway this is a pretty random pairing. I mean Austria and Australia? That's pretty weird, but I just love the characters. Plus this is fiction I can do what ever the hell I want. So I hoped you liked it and there will be more to come.

Much love,

Clementine


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